


Then Have Me, Newt Scamander

by pocket_vvatch



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 08:22:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9429851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocket_vvatch/pseuds/pocket_vvatch
Summary: I do not own Newt Scamander or any of the characters in Rowling's Potter-verse. This is a smutty Newt Scamander x Reader one-shot in which the reader is a muggle born witch with wandless magic talents. If you enjoy this story, there should be more to come!Also, this same story is over on my wattpad (pocketwatch or @storystomakeyousmile) if you enjoy it, a vote over on wattpad would be much appreciated! My tumblr is also pocket-vvatch, in case you wanna check that out too!





	

"It's past curfew."  
You didn't start, nor jump, nor gasp, nor do anything other than turn from the lake beside Hogwarts to face Newt Scamander, who leaned against a tree, staring at you, a half smile playing upon his lips.   
You turned back to the lake, "would you expect anything less?" You said, gazing at the small, glowing bodies of the fireflies that had gathered, hovering over the surface of the lake.   
Footsteps. Then Newt was beside you, "not in a million years." He said affectionately, hooking his pinky in your dangling fingers. You looked at him, face paler than usual in the moonlight, his hair now a brassy shade of red, his green eyes washed out and darting after every firefly. Fascinated. Always fascinated by every beast he came across.   
His mouth quirked and trembled, as if he were about to say something but was hesitant to do so.   
You sighed, "not in a million years," you kept looking at him, "but?"   
He looked to you then, his mouth stuck in that side smirk that was never really a side smirk, and said "but they might see you, they might catch you. Aren't you on your last straw?"   
He laced his fingers completely with yours. You snorted and turned back to the lake, the dancing fireflies, "they wont catch me. They can't. Even if they did, they wouldn't chuck me out, if that's why you're worried," you gave his hand a tender, reassuring squeeze,"they're fascinated by me."   
Newt laughed at that, "arrogant?" He teased.  
You grinned at him, "realistic."   
"They" were the staff of Hogwarts, and you were indeed on your last straw when it came to misbehaving. It wasn't as if you purposely caused mischief or trouble, you just said what you thought and did what you liked - within reason. Sort of.   
He chuckled, "I suppose you're right," he said, swinging your hands back and forth, "Dumbledore loves you, you know? Finds you quite peculiar."   
"Yes, imagine a mudblood with talents like wandless magic?" You said quietly, albeit a bit bitterly.   
Newt stopped swinging your hands and turned his whole body toward you, "please don't call yourself that, Y/N." he said, boring his eyes into your own.  
You sighed and looked away from him, "I know, I know," you said a bit defeatedly, placing your hands on his chest as you looked to him again, "sometimes I don't like being peculiar." You said as you drummed your fingers into his chest.  
"You make a very good job of pretending as if you haven't a care in the world," Newt said, covering your hands with his own.   
You let out a breathy laugh, "I usually don't," you said, wrapping your hands around his neck, "except you. I care about you. All the time, every day."   
Newt rested his forehead against yours as his hands came to rest on either side of your waist, "you are so, so confident. So passionate. So unapologetically open," your heart hammered a beat faster at his words, "I think that's what's so. . . Invigorating about you. More so than the wandless magic. You're not peculiar- you're intriguing."   
Tears tickled your throat but you wouldn't let them fall. He had that light in his eyes that shone as they constantly roamed your face, that quiet tone to his voice. You recognised it when he spoke of his beasts. Of the things he loved. You wondered how in the world you had stumbled upon a man so calming yet breath-taking, so charming yet so timid. 

You pulled back and out of his arms but took his hand, bringing it up between you two, staring at your entwined fingers as you said, "he loves you too, you know. Dumbledore, I mean,"   
Newt laughed and turned to face the lake, your hands dropping between your bodies again, "I think he might be the only one."   
You tightened your hand around his, "he isn't." You whispered, so quietly you wondered if Newt had even heard. His answering squeeze was the only indication he had, "but he does take a liking to you. To both of us. What with your way with beasts and creatures, and my wandless talents."   
Newt continued to stare at the fireflies, "I guess we make a perfect pair." 

You laughed and let go of his hand to make your way toward the bank of the lake. You kneeled before the black, lapping water, Newt only a couple paces behind as you drew your pointer finger up into the air, a trail of clear water following the movement. You circled your finger, and the streak of water spiralled. You splayed your hand and the water burst and separated into tiny orbs. You flicked your wrist and the water flew up in a perfect sphere, like a bouncy-ball, before falling back into your open palm. When it hit your skin you froze it, turned to Newt, and presented him with the ice sphere.   
"A remembrall!" You exclaimed, "should you forget how utterly amazing I am!" you grinned, tossing him the sphere.   
He caught it, deftly, and sat cross legged beside you. "I could never." he said, grinning at you before tossing the cold sphere between his hands.  
Your heart fluttered yet again, and you shivered, as if just now becoming aware of how cold it was outside- and how flimsy your nightgown was.   
"Are you cold?" Newt piped, tossing the sphere into the water as concern grew on his face. He took out his wand and cast a warming spell upon you.   
Your rolled your eyes. You could've done that yourself without a wand. You'd've much preferred him warming you.   
You shuffled closer to him and wrapped your arms around his waist, his own coming to rest across your back. Realising what you wanted, he squeezed you closer to him and buried his head in your neck.   
"Why were you out here alone?" He said, his voice vibrating along the groove of your neck.  
Your hands, icy because of the chill, clutched at his wooly jumper, "I saw the fireflies, and my room was too hot and the cold air felt great and I wanted to think, but I wanted to feel and move. I was sad, but I didn't want to mope, so I came out here to be sad, so at least I was moving and- feeling. The water is calming." You rambled, speaking to the chilly air. With each word that left your mouth, Newt held you closer.   
"Did you want to be alone?" He asked into your neck again.   
Your head dropped to rest on his shoulder, "no, I- I just didn't want to wake you."   
He lifted his head and ran a hand through your hair, "any hour of the day, if you need me, I will come." He said very seriously, his green eyes alight with love so true it robbed you of breath.   
You stared, breathing softly, "I really do love you, Scamander." You said, just as true.   
He smiled then, and cupped your face, his thumb resting on your chin, "and I, you." His eyes roamed your face in that peculiar way again, "why were you sad?"  
You shook your head, leaning into his palm, "another night, my love." You said, your eyes staring into his in a silent plea.   
He brought you to him again, his head atop yours, "another night." 

Suddenly, as if someone had flipped a switch inside you, you were overcome with so much adoration and attraction to this man. This man who understood you, who loved you unconditionally, who saw you. It was all you could do to pull back and kiss him, a hot, feverish kiss.

The kiss was hard, so much so it took Newt a moment to react. But when he did, it was as if the same switch had been flicked, and he kissed back with just as much energy as he could muster (which was still somewhat timid).  
You fisted your hand in his hair as his hands roamed, one coming to rest on the small of your back, the other gently placed on your bare thigh.   
You licked his bottom lip, and he opened his mouth in a breathless welcome, emitting a noise that made your insides melt. Your tongues danced as your other hand roamed from his chest, to his abdomen, and came to rest on the waistband of his pyjamas, your fingertips tantalisingly tucked beneath it.   
He groaned again, and moved his lips from your mouth to your jaw, placing a gentle kiss there, as if asking for permission. Though you two had been together for a while now and done this many, many times, he still liked to ask. Liked to make sure.   
When you made no move to back away, his wet lips pressed sloppy kisses down your neck, to your exposed collarbone as he pulled you all the way into his lap.   
His lips hovered over a particularly sensitive spot and he looked at it, took the hand that rested on your thigh to it and stroked, before he placed his lips upon it again, this time sucking the skin between his tongue and teeth in such a way that you couldn't (even if you'd wanted to) stifle the moan that escaped your lips.   
He did that with everything. Made sure it was properly explored, appreciated, adored, before he delighted in it. It was one of the many, many quirks you loved. 

Your hand still rested on his waistband, so you decided to put it to good use. You let it travel up, under his jumper, over the muscles that lay there-   
"Ah!" Newt cried, his reverberating laugh cooling the hot, bruised parts of your neck as he rested his hand atop the one that was under his shirt.   
Your lustful reverie broke, "what's wrong? Did I hurt you?"   
"No, no," he said, a bit breathlessly, "your hands are cold."   
You threw your head back and laughed, "sorry," you said, still laughing as you let magic heat the blood in your veins.   
You pressed your hand against his chest harder, "better?" You teased.  
The look he gave you, though, you didn't quite expect. His eyes were so clouded with lust that it startled you- enticed you.   
"Yes," he whispered, barely aware of what he was doing to you with a mere look, "better." 

With that, he kissed you again, this one (if possible) even more heated than the last. You brought your other hand to his chest, and began lifting his jumper, pulling away just enough to ask if that was okay with your eyes. Newt nodded, and helped to get it off completely.   
You marvelled, as you always did, at his bare torso, the scars that littered his body, his collarbones, the curve of his neck and line of his jaw. His arms were lean and hard, the muscles there flexing as he caressed you. A gift from spending so much time taming creatures.  
Whatever you felt in that moment twined itself with the tails of magic you had in you, and heat, glorious heat bloomed around the two of you, creating a barrier against the chill.   
"I wonder what use that'll be," you whispered teasingly into Newt's ear, "when we're both stupid-happy and sweaty." You smirked.   
Newt's cheeks went an impressive shade of red before he let out a breathy laugh and shook his head, letting his hands trail up your now familiar thighs. Though he was much more confident now compared to when you were first becoming intimate, his touches were still gentle, still timid.   
His hands reached your hips, under your nightgown. He questioned you with his eyes, you granted permission, and he ever so slowly raised the nightgown, again cherishing every inch of your exposed skin before the nightgown was over your head and amongst the blades of grass. 

Newt's still wary fingers walked up your back, and, a bit deftly, still eye-asking, managed to undo your bra. When it was off, you threw your head and arched your back, opening to him completely as he rested his head between your breasts.   
"You're beautiful," he said onto your skin, gently laying you down to rest on the grassy floor before hovering on his elbows above you.   
You looked into his wonderful green eyes again and said "thank you. You're not too bad yourself." You winked.   
He smiled and laughed quietly again before trailing kisses down your neck, over that still tender spot, down to the valley between your breasts. At which point he kissed all the way over the hill of your left breast while he gently, so gently fondled the other. His tongue came into contact with your nipple, and both of them perked up to greet his mouth. You moaned, loudly, for him. You wanted him to hear how he made you feel. 

You felt his reaction too, rubbing against your inner thigh, the teasing ghost of friction causing an ache for more to begin. Newt's kisses dropped lower, to your navel. Lower, just below it. He looked up to you then, and the sight alone had you reeling. He was asking permission again, and you nodded your head impatiently.  
He breathed a laugh that had your thighs clenching as his hands, so, so delicately slid your pants down your legs and off, exposing you entirely to him and the lake and the fireflies, and whoever else might be watching.   
He raised your legs so they were resting on his shoulders, and kissed your inner thigh while massaging the other.   
He crept higher, both lips and hands. When he was a kiss and touch away from gold, he asked "is this alright?" In a very slow, soft voice.   
"Yes, Newt. It's perfect. You're perfect." You couldn't help yourself. 

His fingers came first. Again, ever so softly appreciating what he was about to revel in. You were wet enough already, but he still took the time to massage that little bundle of nerves, readying you for the oncoming contact. He tenderly slid one inside of you, and pumped slowly in and out. You let your head fall back onto the grass, enjoying these few moments of pleasurable peace before he truly had you squirming.  
Another finger, then his tongue, swirling against that bundle of nerves.   
You writhed beneath him, "keep going," you reassured, for you knew he still had a little bit of trouble when it came to determining what was pleasure and what was uncomfortableness.   
He pumped faster with his fingers, faster than you could comprehend at first. Then, as soon as you began to get used to the rhythm, he changed it, pulled almost all the way out before pushing back in, teasingly slow, all the while his tongue still circled and sucked and nibbled that bundle of nerves.   
"fuck, Scamander-" you gasped, your first (of many) climaxes nearing.   
This time, when he went faster, he didn't stop. He pumped in and out, licked and bit and sucked, still massaging your thigh as he did so. This man truly was a wizard, you thought, as you cried "Newt! Fuck, Newt-"   
Then you were undone, and sweating, panting out your high.   
Newt's smug little face smirked - actually smirked - from between your legs, "did you like that?" He said in that same throaty, slow voice.   
You sat up on your elbows as Newt began to hover above you again. You put a hand to his chest and shook your head, grinning while turning the two of you over so you straddled him, naked and still thrumming with pleasure. You bent over him, your hands on either side of his face, "your turn, Scamander." You whispered. That same lust-addled look clouded his eyes as they took in every naked inch of you.

You sat up and pulled him with you, running your hands down his chest, your nails scratching him ever so slightly. You kept your eyes locked on his as they met the waistband of his pyjamas again. You decided to put your quiet talents to the test and, reaching into that little ball of magic, vanished his bottoms and pants beneath your hands, his eager cock springing free.  
He barked a laugh, "that was very mischievous," he fake-scolded.   
"That," you said, your hand snaking down his torso. Lower. The laughter in his eyes died, replaced by that gut-twisting look his face had become so accustomed to, as you wrapped your hand around his cock, "is my specialty."  
It was all he could do to groan as you worked him, up and down, squeezing as hard as he would if it were his own hand. You got lower, adjusting your body so that your lips could come to meet his tip, teasingly, so teasingly.   
He let out a low, throaty growl (or rather, a purr. You didn't think Newt could growl) just as you were about to take him in your mouth completely. Before you could, though, he held your hands. Gentle, always gentle, but this time with more firmness.   
"I want you." He said. You looked up at him, that same stare still lighting fire to his features, though this time it was. . . Clearer. Determined.   
"I want you," he said, his voice still so soft, "every day of my life. I want you. I want to love you and- and touch you and kiss you and share things with you. I want-," his voice, though faltered here and there, was still so determined. Still so full of life and passion, the same passion he showed for his creatures. What he was saying- it undid you, yet secured every loose thread, you felt alive and real, yet it was as if this were a dream. Whatever threads of magic were inside you were also thrumming at his words, heat pulsed around you both, the air so alive with energy that it sparked. "I want to share my life with you, my creatures. Every day, no matter how hard, I want it to be spent with you, Y/F/N."   
You couldn't help as a single tear escaped and slid down your face. You straightened, placing your hands on his shoulders, stroking them up his neck and holding his, your thumb resting on his jawline, looking into his eyes, his beautiful green eyes. So ready, so studious, so utterly appreciative and pure your heart ached with sheer love.  
"Then have me, Newt Scamander." 

And with that, he, still delicately and carefully, still so undeniably Newt-ly, laid you back on the grass, never leaving your eyes for a second. He aligned himself with your entrance and, still so considerate, eye-asked you if this was okay. You laughed, but nodded, clutching to his back at the first thrust. And the second, and the many after that that sent you over the edge, Newt along with you, many more times than just that once. By morning, when you laid facing Newt's raw back, you cast a ward around the two of you with his wand as the morning bell rang, giggling at the faces your classmates surely would make when you and Newt would stumble into school, rumpled and bruised, still in your pyjamas. 

You wouldn't have it any other way, though, as Newt rolled over in his sleep and absently drew you to him. You two were never meant to blend in, anyway.


End file.
